To the Left of Normal
by ThirtySixBuns
Summary: Jackson "Frost" Overland was recently admitted to Burgess Mental Hospital, and he meets some interesting characters in there. This story recounts the events that occurred in this situation, talking about how Jack and the others ended up there and what happened when they were there. Warnings inside.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is going to be intense. ****_Very _****intense. I'm writing it because I need to get some things off of my chest and this helps me do it. There are a lot of warnings associated with this story, as well. Suicide, self-harm, abuse (both relationship abuse and parental abuse), drug addiction and misuse, and just general angst and fear. Read at your own risk. **

**And please, please, ****_please,_**** if you're struggling then ****_GET HELP_****. Suicide hotlines, school counselors, family, doctors, anything. Please. People care, I swear. **

Burgess Mental Hospital. That was where Jackson '_Frost'_ Overland went after his suicide attempt. It was a dark spot on his already-dark record, he had to admit, but that didn't mean it didn't happen.

Jack couldn't remember all the details of being karted away to the abhorred place. He had a lot of alcohol in his system and two bottles of half-digested pills covering his pants in a black sludge. His foster parents, the Bennett's, brought him a suitcase full of clothes and then were forced to leave.

Jack had gotten to the hospital at about two in the morning. It was dark and smelled terribly – if Jack hadn't been rather drugged up and dehydrated he would have noticed the second (though the boy himself didn't smell much better). He was ushered into a dark room where the night-shift nurse flicked on the lights, giving Jack a plastic gown that was open in the back and telling him to undress completely so she could examine him before he redressed. He swallowed thickly, his mouth so dry that his tongue stuck to the ridges on the roof of his mouth. _Rugae_, he recalled to himself, not making very much sense in his weak state. _The riffs on the roof of your mouth are called rugae. _

The nurse looked over his body, asking him questions that he would have lied about before that day – _or was it yesterday? Is it morning yet? Last I checked it was only eleven but I feel like I've been up for years now_ – but now he was helpless and _had_ to answer truthfully. When the woman pointed at his ribs and asked him if he ate a proper amount he shook his head no. When she pointed to the scars lining his skin and the fresh wounds that would bleed on occasion when he moved the wrong way he had admitted to her that they were from his own hand. When she asked if he had truly wanted to die when he tried to kill himself, the answer was a terrified _yes_.

There were many, many papers that he had to fill out, even though Jack knew that he was technically thirteen, meaning that they wouldn't be able to legally hold him to anything. They also gave him a packet but told him he just had to fill that out until he was allowed "off until." They took some clothes out of his suitcase, checked them very carefully while marking things down with a pen and paper, and gave them to him to sleep in before telling him that he could go to bed. They asked if he would like anything before he went to sleep. He asked for some water and the nurse returned with a cup full of it. He drank in down quickly before she took it and left.

He then laid down, feeling tired enough to sleep for a few days. He was about to go to sleep when the nurse returned and shined a flashlight in his face and the face of his two roommates – both of which had been unnoticed until that moment. He blinked curiously, but settled back down into a half-sleep.

That was, until the nurse returned and shined the flashlight into their faces again. Jack groaned and the nurse looked at him carefully to make sure that he was alright before she left. Jack sighed and fell asleep this time, not realizing that the nurse came in every fifteen minutes to check on them.

That night, he didn't even notice that his roommate was probably the loudest snorer that he had ever roomed with ever, either. Or the fact that they drew his blood while he was asleep.

When Jack woke up, it was because everyone else was also waking up. He really, really didn't want to get up yet, but he had to. Rather than questioning things, he just went with the flow.

When he left his room he saw everyone scrambling around and doing _things._ He couldn't exactly make sense of it, so he just sat in an empty chair and waited for people to tell him what to do. He wasn't in the mood to think for himself.

After a while, he was told that he would have to stay _'on unit'_ (whatever that meant), and that he would be eating lunch in the secure area of the B Wing, because he hadn't been evaluated by a doctor yet and wasn't ready to go to the cafeteria. Inside they brought him a box with a plastic fork, and he picked at his food until he was allowed to give it back to the nurse, who frowned when they noticed how little Jack ate. They had given him a vegan option, because last night they had asked if he had any diet restrictions. He couldn't believe that they actually have a vegan option because the only reason he became a vegan was because he didn't really want to eat.

The nurse marked something down on a paper and then handed Jack a pill and another cup of water. "Here, we did your blood tests while you were sleeping," she said, making Jack shiver due to the fact that he didn't even wake up for it. "We're starting you off on ten milligrams of Prozac, and if you respond well we'll bump you up to twenty…" the nurse continued talking, mentioning side effects and bullshit like that, so Jack zoned out a little, making sure to keep an ear out for a change in drone – or, _tone_. If their tone changed then he should actually listen.

"So, tell me, what are you taking?" The nurse asked. He paused for a moment before replying, his voice unsure.

"Ten milliliters of Prozac?" He asked her, knitting his eyebrows together. She shrugged, correcting him to milligrams instead of milliliters before giving him a white capsule and water. He took it and drank all of the water, as instructed. She left, but not before mentioning that he would have to eat at least half of his next meal or else he would be _phase dropped. _

He didn't want to know what that meant.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two. Jack's point of view. Jack's first day in the hospital. All warnings still apply, none of them especially emphasized for this chapter. **

I didn't exactly know what to expect when I went to Burgess Mental Hospital. They looked at me and told me that it was going to be rather intense before I entered, and I numbly nodded, but what was there was _not_ what I expected.

My first conversation in there was during the morning meeting with all of the patients – except for the person in the Quiet Room and the Out Patient people. The person in the Quiet Room was too mentally unstable to be around the other people in the unit or was trying too hard to hurt themselves, and the Out Patient people were off doing their own thing until it was time for group therapy because they were too healthy to be with us.

Anyways, first conversation that wasn't with a doctor or whatever since I had tried to kill myself. It was with a girl named Toothiana. She went by Ana or Tooth, but everyone called her Tooth so I called her that, too. I would have called her Ana because it was much more normal than _Tooth_ and all I ever tried to be was normal (even if I got pinned with the nickname _Frost,_ after some ice sprite that was in an old movie that no one really cared about anymore_),_ but I didn't want to make her uncomfortable or bring attention to myself. She was the one that started the conversation, bouncing and talking about how white my hair was before reaching over with a highlighter and coloring it.

"Don't _do_ that, Tooth!" Someone scolded – another patient. He was taller than me and Tooth, and he came up to us, rubbing the back of his head. "You know that you can't touch other people here, Tooth, let him go," he said, sitting in a chair near us. Tooth and I sat in the two corners of the window seat, and we both looked at the other. I felt like I was caught doing something bad even though I hadn't done anything yet.

"Oh, it's not a problem, I don't mind," I said timidly, biting the inside of my cheek so I didn't yawn. Tooth pulled away, nodding at her friend.

"Yeah, sorry, we're not supposed to touch each other ever over here. I knew that and I still did it but your hair is the cutest blue now! Well, only where I colored it. I remember the last time I was here, though, me and this guy managed to sneak _within the fifteen minute limit_ and have sex in the bathroom! Now _that_ was touching! Though, not the best time I've had," Ana rambled. I blinked blankly, wondering why the hell I would possibly care about that. That wasn't my business.

"Whatever, Tooth, who's this?" I felt like the taller boy disliked me immensely, even though I hadn't seen him before. He had a warmth towards Tooth, though, so maybe that would spread to me.

"I'm Frost," I said, biting my lip. I didn't really know what to say. I mean, he wasn't even looking at me. He seemed almost like he was high or hopped up on drugs. That was actually really likely now that I thought about it, though.

"And I'm Bunny – or Aster, but whatever, might as well accept that I go by Bunny, nice to meet you Frost," he said, taking a deep breath. I smiled, nodding.

"What are you in here for, Frost?" Tooth asked. I shrugged shyly, biting my lip.

"I… I tried to kill-kill myself," I stuttered, feeling sick to my stomach. I thought back to the previous night, where I had my stomach pumped… it was intense. Bunny seemed unfazed by my uneasiness.

"Sorry to hear that, I'm here because I'm detoxing… thus, the jumpiness," Bunny said. We both turned to Tooth expectantly.

"Oh! I'm here because I'm bipolar and also my dad kicked me out, which is why I'm still in these _motherfucking clothes_, and like. You know. Violence. And ADHD. Also, my dad and I have a bad relationship…" she rambled. I was really surprised to hear her swear like that, but I didn't comment. Instead I just sat there, feeling small while in my warm pajamas, surrounded by other people with _actual_ problems.

After that we were all given little golf pencils and papers. Apparently we weren't allowed to have erasers because they could be used to hurt yourself with them. There were questions about how you felt that day and what your appetite and bullshit like that. I put apathetic and not hungry and slept well. Other than that, though, I didn't really fill it out with any details. Then I gave it to the person who was collecting it and then sat back down in the corner. I pulled my knees up to my chest and rested my head on them, my arms wrapping around my knees. I no longer felt the intense depression that would stop me from leaving my room or eating most days, but I also didn't feel the energetic happiness that I had when I was younger or when I was faking it. I sighed to myself, shaking my head and resting my eyes.

I sat there until I was pulled in to see a doctor. I sighed and followed the nurse (or whatever he was. Everyone just called him John, so I figured I would just do that, too) into another room, scowling at the fact that my feet were covered in little _things_, wiping them against the legs of my pants. The entire place kind of felt grimy, and I realized that I really needed to shower.

"Jackson Overland, yes?" Said the doctor. He had a German accent and he his bald head and face shape reminded me of the doctor from _The Nightmare Before Christmas. _I stared at him for a few beats before nodding, clearing my throat, and…

… promptly throwing up all over myself, black sludge that was similar to that of which I had… _expunged_ the night before falling from my mouth. It wasn't fast, but it was a dribble, charcoal having dyed my stomach acids a terrifying black. It slid down my lip and chin, onto my shirt and pants, and at the sight of it I just threw up more, not even bothering to move so that it wouldn't get on me because I didn't _care_. Tears streamed down my eyes because my throat was burning, and I let the nurses drag me and take care of me, not having the will to move for them. Then, I started thrashing about, realizing that I felt terribly sick, throwing up more and not wanting anyone to touch me. Because of that, the supporters put me under, and I slept the next couple of hours off.


	3. Chapter 3

**This section of the story very heavily talks about suicide, self-harm, and it has some grotesque parts that the weak of heart (and weak of stomach) should avoid. My apologies. **

_I sighed to myself. This was it. It was January 9__th__ and I was done with it. Sure, the Bennett's had adopted me, but they only adopted me because their son died and I looked like a blonde version of him. I wasn't him, and they knew that. I also knew this. We also all knew that I could never replace their precious son, and that there was no reason for them to care if I killed myself. Everything would be fine with them if I offed myself. _

_The person that I was really concerned about was my friend that I called Wind. She was fucked up like me (but not quite as bad), and we knew nothing about each other, but she was there for me. She wasn't quite all there, but she was the closest friend that I had, so I wrote her a note that I hoped would get to her. _

_This was my train of thought as I grabbed a bottle of some generic alcohol – the types of alcohol all blended together to me by this point since I would drink whatever got me drunk – and two bottles of pills. They were two types of pain pills that had the side effects of drowsiness. I downed the pills and used the alcohol to wash it down. I was glad I had enough practice with drinking alcohol so I could swallow everything without throwing up. _

_After that I just waited tiredly, curled up on my bed. I didn't feel great, but overall nothing hurt. I couldn't feel my fingers any longer, either. At this point, with my cloudy mind and my numb skin, I figured that I could just make sure that I would die more quickly by slitting my wrists. I did it from my elbow to my wrist, making it look like a bloody tic-tac-toe board on both arms. The blood all blended together so I wiped it off with a towel before I got a long sleeve black shirt on, letting it stick to my forearms sickly. If I weren't so drunk I would have noticed the overwhelming coppery smell, but instead I just figured that now no one would know that I already had plenty of scars on my arms. _

_I laid back down in bed, sighing to myself. I was tired, but this was taking much longer than I thought it was. I took out my phone and gasped to myself. January 9__th__ – wasn't that Wind's birthday? I started freaking out and texting Wind that she was an awesome friend and that I was sorry and saying that I didn't mean to do it on her birthday and that I was so damn sorry. She replied with the fact that her birthday is in September and kept asking me why I was sorry, so I took my sweet time in explaining that I was finally dying. She told me to please stay awake. I told her I would at least spend my last night with her. _

_I was ready for death when Mrs. Bennett came in. Her jeans were undone and I figured that she had checked her phone before going to the bathroom and found messages from Wind (well, I figured that later… after Mrs. Bennett told me that that's what happened). "What did you take?!" she asked, loudly. I weakly pointed to the empty bottle of pills. She gasped and then grabbed me, holding me close. "What are you trying to accomplish?! Why would you want to kill yourself?"_

_That was when I realized that I didn't really want to die, I just wanted a fresh life. I sobbed and swore and said things that I don't remember because I was so drugged up. What stood out to me, though, was Mr. Bennett coming in and listening with tears in his eyes – Mrs. Bennett, being a nurse, didn't cry and was calm and collected – and he whispered one thing over and over again to himself. "I had no idea… I had no idea. I had no idea that you were hurting so much, I should have known… I had no idea," he whispered in a broken mantra. _

_Mrs. Bennett then dragged me to the bathroom and shoved her fingers down my throat, trying to make me throw up. I shook my head, "No, you're not doing it deep enough to make me throw up, it's like this," I said before expertly forcing myself to throw up. There were half-digested pills and dinner, and it burned the back of my throat, but no matter how I tried I couldn't really get very much up. Mrs. Bennett sobbed and then beckoned me to the car. I was shoved into a jacket and then into the passenger's seat. _

_It was the longest car ride that I had ever experienced. I was so tired, I just wanted to sleep and let it all be over, but Mr. Bennett – my __**dad**__ – kept me awake. Then we went into the ER and they brought me to a room, asking Mrs. Bennett a bunch of questions before having me sit up straight and telling me that they would pump my stomach. _

_I held my adoptive mother's hand and nodded, and they took a tube. I stared blankly at it before they lubed it up and shoved it down my nose. At first, everything was okay, but when it got past my throat I started whimpering, begging for them to stop. It burned my nose and throat, and I started throwing up all over myself, sobbing and begging for them to take it out. They probably had it in for a maximum of three minutes before they pulled it out, but it felt like it took forever while they put charcoal into my stomach and then pulled the tube out. I was gasping for breath, the feeling of it being pulled out so fast shocking me into throwing up more, my mom holding my hand and rubbing my back gently. My dad was nowhere to be found, but I knew that he was rather squeamish so I didn't mind. _

_I didn't even notice that I fell asleep, but apparently I slept for a few hours. When they woke me up, they put me in a wheelchair and started taking me to one of the upper levels. I threw up this sickly black (dyed with charcoal) goop, and I regretted the fact that I had eaten a ton of spaghetti before this ordeal, because the barf looked like tiny worms all over the entry way to the ER. I blinked these thoughts away and watched the world slide around me until I was transferred into another bed. I slept for four more hours before I was woken up again, but it felt like two minutes. _

_When they woke me up again they had me go into an ambulance and transferred me into the mental hospital (after asking if I would allow it. I shrugged and said sure, being too tired to think about. They also shoved a bunch of papers to me and I looked at them blankly before watching them fall to the floor). They had me go in an ambulance and I looked at the people that were in it with me casually, making a weak sarcastic comment before going back to sleep. (For those who are curious, I said "Hashtag YOLO, but I didn't even die," and no one found it as funny as I did. Granted, no one else had a 2.8 blood-alcohol level.)_

_That's what got me to Burgess Mental Hospital at two in the morning. _


	4. Chapter 4

After I slept off the drugs, changed, took my pill, and showered, I was good to go. However, one thing that I simply must point out is the manner of the showers.

First of all, the showers aren't in the bathroom. The layout of the overall unit is rather simple. You enter into a wide hallway. The first doors are the meeting rooms, then the Nurse's Quarters, the two therapy rooms, the boys' bedrooms, the Quiet Room, the girls' bedrooms, the bathrooms, the showers, and finally, the bedrooms for the people who aren't allowed to sleep in the same room as others. The showers themselves were simply tiled rooms with a nozzle for water on the ceiling and a button to press for water. There weren't any seats or places to put your things so they could possibly stay dry, so I just pressed them as close to the door as I could so my clothes didn't get wet. Then I washed my hair and body, dried off, and left. Before I left I noticed that someone had managed to carve "You're beautiful" and "Fag" into the metal mirror on the door. It made me feel a little sick but I ignored it and continued with my shower.

(Also, if you've ever shared a shower with girls (or people with long hair in general) you might already know this, but there was hair everywhere. Everywhere. Every. Single. Where. On the walls, floor, door, door handle, ceiling… everywhere.)

After I showered and got dressed and everything, I went to the morning meeting for the next day. It was surprising that I had slept so much, but I didn't bother with it. I got an average of about twenty hours of sleep a week, so I knew that I needed much more sleep.

When I saw Tooth and Bunny I smiled and sat near them timidly. Bunny was the one that talked to me. "I didn't know that you were one of my roommates," he said gruffly. He wasn't a morning person, I figured.

"Me neither," I said hoarsely, and Tooth smiled. Her eyelids fluttered and her ears seemed to pull back. The only reason I noticed was because her hair was pulled back in a tight and greasy pony tail. Her eyes were smeared with makeup, and I could tell she wasn't wearing a bra. I could also tell that she had a nipple piercing because all that she was wearing was a thin, white tee shirt and pajama pants. When I looked closely I noticed that she seemed to have Latina roots, but she was still really pale.

"How did you sleep, Frost? I can see that you've changed your clothes," she said, getting closer and gently taking my face in her hands. The physical contact overwhelmed me a little, making my breath a shade shorter, but I smiled a toothy smile anyways. "Oh my god, your teeth are so white I just want to run my tongue against them, Frost! Oh and your smile…" her tone went from a high pitched squeal to a low and loving tone. Bunny growled a little again.

"No touching, Tooth!" He scolded, drinking his milk. A few minutes later she was pulled away because one of the other patients reported the _touching_ incident, and while that happened we were given our papers to fill out. Tooth came out and joined us when she was done being scolded, apologizing to me and filling her paper out. The paper was the exact same as yesterday's and I put _content, not hungry, _and _slept well_.

Then the others went to breakfast and I forced some salad-like stuff down my throat, followed by some apple juice to wash it down. I had to admit that it made me feel a lot better, my stomach gladly accepting the substance.

The other people that were eating with me were complete opposites in stature. One was silent, clad in what looked like a giant green mat that was rolled up around him with two holes in the sides for his arms. I saw him in the Quiet Room through the window (note to self: more on that later).

The other was a gruff guy that looked about twenty two, even though I knew that he had to be under eighteen. He had dirty blonde hair, including a decent amount of beard. He would laugh to himself every once in a while, devouring his food like it was a snack before grumbling about something. I couldn't take the silence anymore, so I decided to talk to them.

"Uh, so… what are you guys in here for?" I asked quietly, looking between the two. The silent one was the one that responded – in American Sign Language. Instead of trying to scrape up my sparse knowledge of the language, I handed him a paper and a pencil. I watched him write '_I don't want to talk about it'_ while the big guy laughed in response to my question.

"I'm here for theft and drug deal," he said in a Russian accent, laughing. "You?"

"Suicide," I replied quietly. He nodded, chuckling creepily. He had a shifty look in his eyes that genuinely scared me, and I subconsciously scooted away a little while biting my lip.

"Oh I am sorry to hear about that. At least they not put drugs is your food, yes?" He said, gesturing to his devoured food. "They put drug in my food, I am sure. It is better than prison, however, no?"

"Oh… I'm sorry…" I said, coughing a little before letting everything go back into silence. I hadn't realized that silence could be so much better than conversation.

I just waited for the other to get done with their lunch, instead of trying to converse again.


	5. Chapter 5

**Caution: Abuse in this chapter. Please be wary of such triggers and remain safe. [Also I didn't really overlook this one and edit it super well, so if there are any mistakes please alert me.]**

After lunch and arts and crafts (which I couldn't go to because I hadn't filled out the packet they gave me, but instead I worked on it. I cleared it with the nurses, so I was able to go out at dinner when I finished), it was visiting time. My foster parents came and we spoke quietly, and I whispered about what things were like. They said that they were sad that they had missed me yesterday and that they wished they could make me magically all better. I could tell that they were barely refraining from sobbing their eyes out, though. I felt really bad, but I was also flattered with how much they cared about me.

After a while we just lapsed into silence, hearing other hopeless conversations echoing around in the gym that we were residing in. I recognized most of the people from the unit, and there were parents and boyfriends and girlfriends and sisters and brothers and even someone's kid. I heard someone that I hadn't talked to yet speaking with their parents – wait, no scratch that. They were yelling at their daughter, until a resounding _slap_ was heard throughout the gym. Some people didn't even look up or care, but the nurses dragged the dad away and I rushed over. For a moment I thought it was Tooth, with her pony tail and white tee shirt, but I shortly realized that it wasn't.

The girl was dragged away and my attention went back to the Bennett's. Nothing else eventful happened until the after dinner. If you were wondering, I sat with Bunny and Tooth at dinner. (Our names sound like they're out of a bad joke or a kid's movie. Frost, a bunny and a tooth walk into a bar. There was a frosted, furry tooth.)

During the meeting after dinner, the people were split up into two groups depending on why they were there and their personality types. I seemed to have all of the introverts in my group.

The girl that had been slapped by her dad was there. When asked, she tried to push the matter off, but the therapist wasn't having any of it.

"Come on, tell us why you're here. Explain, we want to understand. You tried to kill yourself, why?" She asked, with short black hair and a harsh tone. She was being nothing but helpful in a harsh manner.

"Well… I guess I just feel like such a burden…" The girl murmured half-heartedly. The therapist snorted.

"You are a burden – all kids are burdens. You're going to take money and not realize the worth of it until you're an adult. What about it? What makes _that_ so damn big in your life that you wanted to _die?" _That made the girl start crying. Then, she spilled her story, a heart-wrenching tale that was far worse than I could ever deal with. Granted, I was only thirteen.

I thought about it until I went to bed, glad that the Bennett's loved me and cared for me, and that my birth parents weren't such… such monsters.

**[A bit more graphic abuse. The girl's point of view.]**

_A great man once said that to a monster, the norms are monstrous. (John Steinbeck in East of Eden.) I always figured that that's how it was to my mom and dad. My mother wasn't a monster, but her dad was and she never got past that. Her dad hit her, and every person that she loved hit her as well. Her husband, her sister, and herself in a way – if that makes any sense. _

_My dad, however, was a monster. I don't know where he learned his ways, or if he was born with them. I don't know if he ever really loved me or if his way of showing it was just a little distorted. I guess I'll never really know, but he would tell me that he loved me. _

_The biggest problem was that I let him. My mother didn't ever want me to get hurt, but she couldn't stop it. Her life was too much of a daze for her to notice things like her children or her husband's hand making her bleed or cry. It's almost funny – she never really noticed things. Or, at least, she tried not to. She didn't notice when he was drunk or when he was in a bad mood or when he smelled heavily of another girl's perfume and had no one's left. _

_I let my dad hit me until my math, history, and… science? Yes, biology. Those three teachers decided to ban together when they noticed that I didn't try in class, I showed up with bruises, my parents weren't involved at all… it was my math teacher that talked to me first. She was the only girl of the group and she was really, really cool… she asked me if everything was okay. I said yeah, why wouldn't they be? She asked me where I got those scratches and I said that I fell. She asked how my dad was doing. I said fine. Then… then she told me "Don't you dare fucking bullshit me, Eliza," and I stared at her until I realized that I couldn't stop crying. She had the audacity to swear at me, but not because she was mad or wanted to hit me – because she cared. And… I couldn't… that meant a lot to me. _

_I never did tell her what was wrong. I was eventually taken to the consoler – a place I was far too familiar with – and I admitted that the wounds were from my dad… they asked if I felt safe and home and I said no… but I didn't have any proof. My mom refused to say anything. Until he hit me in public, and now my mom is getting help and we're probably going to win the court case… _

_But that's not the most important thing. I'm learning that I kind of have to hate my dad, now. It's his fault. I can't have a normal relationship without being afraid because of him. I can't not flinch when people yell at me. I can't stand the stench of alcohol because of him – but… I love him in so many ways that I can't help. He's my daddy… and he'll still be the one that made me pancakes when I was a kid and the one that cooks bacon like no one else – even if he spilled the grease on me that one time – and he still… he's such a large part of my life that I can't… he just… I love him and I hate him and I hate that I love him and love that I hate him and I don't know what to do. I'm… whatever. _

_The reason I came here, though, is because I want to get better. To prove to him that I can change even though he's done so much to me. I can live my life, not as the girl that was abused but as who I am. The baby tooth – I mean, I meant to say that I'm the girl who didn't lose her baby teeth until she was fourteen. And also – I'm allowed to leave today and I just want to say that you guys are all insane and many of you scare the living heck out of me. Thank you, though. _

That was the last time that we saw her – her name was McKenna, but we called her Baby Tooth. Of course, her and Tooth had quite the bond and she gave her number to her. It was nice to meet her, and albeit I knew her for a handful of hours, I was glad to talk to her. She was a wonderful person that I loved in a friendly way, and she even gave me her number.

I decided that I wouldn't contact her. Or anyone else in this place because it's not the type of place that I want to meet friends in.


	6. Chapter 6

**Sandy's point of view. Relationship abuse and what happened to him. **

_I was with her for months before it ever even happened. At least, before it ever got bad. I had been dating a girl named Gaia and things were going great, but sometimes things go out of hand. I genuinely loved her, though. _

_I guess it started with little things. When she was angry she would hold my arm tightly, leaving bruises on occasion. However, the more comfortable we got, the worse it got. It never got too bad – nothing like the stuff you read in fanfictions made my fifteen year olds that don't get enough sleep. Everything was actually great, aside from occasionally bruising my arms and scratching me – and kicking me once, even – and we were going to last for forever. _

_That was before I saw her at a party where she made out with some chick. I asked Gaia about it, and I was pissed as hell. I shouted at her. She laughed and told me that I shouldn't even be talking. I just let it go and when I saw her the next day – perfectly sober – I asked about it and she repeated what she had said the night before, only in a cold and quiet voice. I nodded, I guess, and we went on until she scratched my face and I texted my older brother. I kind of… gave up at that point. No, I didn't 'kind of' give up – I completely gave up and I tried to light myself on fire. That's what got me into Burgess Mental Hospital, technically, but that's not really all that happened… I haven't said a word since, though. Not to my brother or mom's or to Gaia herself. _

_Before I ever got with Gaia, though, I think that I had already been broken. _

_When I was twelve, I got with a girl. We didn't have sex, but we did… fool around. She was fourteen but she hadn't been pure in that way for a long time. She was already broken, and albeit she thought she was doing me a favor she was really just hurting others without realizing it. The next time I saw her, though, she didn't even react to me. She didn't say hi or smile or wave. She just continued walking, after having made eye contact with me. _

_Then, about a month later, we saw each other one on one again and the process repeated. I hoped somewhere in me that maybe she would acknowledge me after, but, needless to say, she didn't. _

_Two weeks later we actually had sex. Then she ignored me. _

_I let this pattern go on for a while until I told her that we had to stop and she was chill with it. The girl, Liz was her name, drank all the time and her life was crumbling before her very eyes, but she smiled a smile that didn't reach her eyes and decided to find other ways to temporarily relieve the pain. It was… pathetic. She was pathetic… but that was okay with me for some reason. Maybe I felt pathetic, too. _

_Next I got with a girl who was my age, thirteen, but she didn't move fast enough and she wasn't as cool and tactful as Liz or anything, so we broke up. There were no hard feelings. _

_My next relationship was with a seventeen year old boy… I regret every minute of it now, but I didn't know that it was so bad back then. I let him grab me and push my face down into the pillow and I learned how to love it. I got off on it, even. I let myself love these things. After he turned eighteen, though, he had to join the army and told me that I wasn't worth the hassle of keeping up the relationship (though, he insisted that that term just came out wrong). That was the end of it. _

_After that I spent my time sleeping around. I would sometimes get drunk but really I would just do girls that were drunk. Sometimes I would do guys that were drunk. Sometimes (rarely) sober people were willing to fuck me… and I just let things get out of hand until I met Gaia at a party. It was grand. She and I danced, and for the first time in a while I woke up with someone holding me in bed the next morning. She didn't say that I was a mistake and we spent the day together… it was different. She had me step out of my norm… she even got me to completely stop drinking for a couple of months (which did __**not**__ help with my insomnia), and we were almost normal. I didn't notice that our steps were just barely out of sync with others'. We just didn't fit into the molds as well as others did. _

_So… I tried to end it all. I realized, though… death isn't what I wanted. I wanted a new life. I wished that Liz, that bitch, had never touched me, and that I hadn't gone along with it. I wished that I hadn't gone out and let me destroy myself. I wished that I had stayed with the girl that was my age. I wished that… I wished that I had talked to my parents and that I didn't go behind their backs and lie to them all the time. I wished that I had never dated that older, gross, guy. I wished that I hadn't stopped caring about myself. _

_I also wished that I hadn't just stopped sleeping – not having sex. I mean that I didn't get nearly as much sleep as I should have. I would just stay up all night and do stupid shit all the time and that was not good for my head. I would even just read for hours upon hours on end. _

_… I'm bad with outros. _

_Let's talk about how I just want to be a blade of grass. I mean, look at a nice lawn. A piece of grass with all of its friends, and it's just… chilling. All the time. It eats the food the sun gives it. It grows. It takes nutrients from the ground. And, about once a month, a giant machine stops it from getting out of control and chops the top of the organism off. _

_Grass. _


	7. Chapter 7

**THIS IS A LONG CHAPTER. WORSHIP ME, IT'S OVER 3,000 WORDS. MY USUAL IS ONLY ONE THOUSAND. All the usual triggers. **

When the nurses gave me most of my clothes, the first thing I did was look for my favorite jacket. I didn't find it, so I went to the nurses, and they told me that they couldn't give it to me because of the string that was in the hood. I told them to take it out and they gave me the jacket, which I slipped onto my bloated figured, the jacket hiding any scars or fat or protruding ribs.

After that I went into my room and drew on the chalk board, thinking about how much weight I had gained and how much had happened in the two days of my stay here in the hospital. It felt like I had been in there for months, but it had only been a few days – I had tried to kill myself less than a week ago. Since then I had gained four pounds, which the doctors insisted was a great thing, and I had seen several doctors that all seemed different. I had also been put on two medications – an antianxiety and an antidepressant – and I had seen my parents (foster parents) twice.

Every day, I was asked a series of stupid questions by a nurse. They included things like '_do you have any suicidal or homicidal ideation'_ and '_when's the last time you pooped'_ and – my personal favorite – _'how would you describe you mood right now'. _I don't know what they want me to say for the last one. "Yes, I'm fucking dandy, I'm in a mental hospital!" or something? That wasn't happening any time soon. Instead I just said things like _apathetic_ or _melancholy_.

During my second day, though, I got really freaked out. We were talking about how drugs are bad for you (and I learned more about drugs that day than I ever had. Two words to get me to stop drinking – whiskey dick. Look it up). There was Bunny and North, and they started talking about something completely stupid and irrelevant. It quickly broke out into an argument, and Bunny angrily stood up, bumping the table and knocking over a cup of water, which spilled onto Tooth's drawing. They were shouting at each other, and both were made to leave so that a fight didn't break out. Bunny paced in the hall until his anger spiked and he punched a picture. The plastic screen over it cracked where his fist connected with it. North was put into the other room and I could faintly hear him laughing about something with a nurse. It was a maniac laugh that sent shivers down my spine.

While all of this happened, I went to my room rather than hearing more about the side effects of drugs (considering the fact that I knew both North and Aster were on drugs, I didn't need any more considering). Instead I just got control of my breathing and tried to wait out an anxiety attack. Before that happened, a nurse came in to check on me and asked if I wanted a stronger antianxiety in order to calm down. I said yes and they gave it to me, and it felt _so good_. It made me just calm down and I felt like I was floating. I went through the rest of the day in a sleepy daze, not even realizing that the day after would be my fourteenth birthday. January 12th would be spent in the hospital for me. Fun, right?

Now, I look back on the birthday and it was a terrible time in my life. It was, however, a very important time. I learned so much back then and it made my life so much easier in the long run. I'm so glad that things turned out so well after I fucked up so badly.

The next day, I saw Tooth sitting outside of her room. I knelt next to her, noticing that she looked like utter crap. "Are you sick?" I asked, looking her over carefully.

"I'm mentally sick," she replied weakly. Then we had to go to breakfast, and I decided not to ask about anything.

That afternoon we had group therapy. There was the same group of people as last time (with more people that I haven't mentioned and I didn't really talk to) and the same therapist.

"So, Jack, you're in here because you tried to kill yourself. Why did you do it?" She asked, quirking a cocky eyebrow. I rolled my eyes and replied snidely.

"I tried to kill myself because I was neglected for three years after my sister was adopted." That statement was met with nothing but blank stares, so I sighed to myself, explaining.

"Okay, so up until I was nine I lived with my mom and dad. There was also my little sister, who was four when I was nine and is ten right now. When I was nine, though, my parents died and my little sister was put into foster care with me. She and I were going to be adopted, but then the people realized that they didn't have the money to support two kids so they had to pick one. I told them that they should choose her, and then I spent three more years in an orphanage – Lunar Future's Orphanage, to be precise. You might recognize that name from the papers because it was shut down because of mistreatment of children. I wasn't beaten, but I was malnourished and I gave my food to the younger kids – all that cliché stuff that you expect from someone as sexy as me. Then I was given to another orphanage where the Bennett's adopted me to replace their dead son, Jamie. I stayed underweight, and I refused to ever eat more than I needed and I did all of these unhealthy things because I didn't see any point in life and I wanted to die, but the moment I tried to die I got put in here," I sighed, leaning back in my chair and smirking in a fruitless effort to make it seem like he was perfectly fine and that all of this was a joke.

"You just told all of that really dryly – how much have you already seen a psychologist for?" The woman asked wisely. He was impressed by the fact that she had been able to figure out that someone had already tried (and failed) to piece him back together.

"After I was in the bad orphanage they had me go to a therapist to make sure that I was okay. I played everything off as totally chill and they let me off the hook – just like you guys are going to do because I'm totally fine," I said. That wasn't the _best_ thing to say to someone who had dealt with much crazier people than I.

"You think that I'm going to let that happen mister… Overland? Well, yes, if you try hard enough to lie to me like that then sure, I guess you can go, but you're not going to do that, are you? Because you're desperate. You tried to make yourself die," at this I felt tears well up in my eyes, but I willed them to stay down, "so I think we all know that you're not going to lie to us or yourself like that again."

Rather than replying I just scoffed and looked away. She chose her next victim; Sandy. He refused to talk, and she said that she could help him once he tried to help her. Finally, she chose some girl that I didn't know or talk to. She was quiet but _hella sassy_ (like, she made Raven from "_That's So Raven"_ seem like a demure and polite child from the mid-1800's in comparison). She asked the girl why she was here, and rather than replying with defensive sarcasm, she took a deep breath and actually told her.

"Well… I was with my boyfriend… and I was sixteen at the time. He was twenty four, and he drove me with his friends to dinner at a diner and we drank a little bit… and then he took me to this – this place. It was really secluded and… we were alone and I asked what we were doing there. He just said for me to go with the flow and started making out with me. After a bit I told him that I wasn't completely comfortable with the pace that things were going and said that I wanted to go home. He coaxed me into continuing. Then… he grabbed my ass and I said I wanted him to stop… and he said no and he just kept going until he—he raped me and took _so much_ from me. And… in a lot of ways, I let him," she was definitely crying by this point, wiping her eyes frantically and whimpering quietly. My heart sank and I felt like I was going to throw up with how much she was hurt. I swallowed and opened my mouth to talk, only to close it again when I realized that I didn't have anything that I could possibly say to that.

"I'm glad that you're getting help," I choked out, cutting the silence short. The therapist smiled at me when I talked. I stuck my tongue out at her.

Then she went on and talked to a girl named Ashley who was there for thinking about homicide but it was focused on one of her two moms because she was a hopeless drunk. There was also a really flamboyantly gay person who said that they only used they/them pronouns and that their sexuality and gender identity was "flower."

Now you understand about as much about them as I did.

Later, during the music session, I realized two things. One; I am a fucking hipster with my coffee shop music and shit like that. Two; I really, really am emotional about my music.

During the music sessions you would play a song (there was an iPod with music and the nurses actually had their phones and would look up song on YouTube if it was possible, albeit they were super sure that we didn't steal their phones), and then you had to explain why it meant to much to you.

I couldn't think of a song quickly enough, so I just said the first song that came to mind when I was chosen to play my song. I played _At Least I'm Not as Sad (As I Used to be)_ by fun.

It's genuinely a great song, and I'm going to put the lyrics here. I know that some of you won't really like that, but you guys can suck it up. It's a great song. One of my favorites. You should listen to it, reader.

_Have you ever wondered about our old nu-metal friends and what became of them?_

_Turns out I saw them a couple of days ago,_

_They were laughing and drinking and smoking and singing._

**_Girl: _**_C'mon, can you count all the notches in your belt?_

_I'd rather not, let's just say I'm starving myself._

**_Girl: _**_Baby, put your name down on a piece of paper,_

_I don't want no savior baby, I just want to have a good time_

_At least I'm not as sad as I used to be._

_And they said,_

**_Girl: _**_"Hey Nate, yeah, it's been a while,_

_Are you going to sing?"_

_And I began to smile and I said,_

_"You should've seen me a couple of years ago,_

_I was laughing and drinking and smoking and singing."_

**_Girl: _**_C'mon can you count all the loves that didn't last?_

_It's such a gas when you bring up the past._

**_Girl: _**_Baby, put your name down on a piece of paper._

_I don't want no savior baby_

_I just want to get it out._

_At least I'm not as sad as I used to be. (Repeated twice.)_

_And they say we would've seen you two years ago_

_Had you stuck around or come out to a show,_

_But youth's taken over by rock and roll,_

_While we were laughing and drinking and smoking and singing..._

_So I left, that is it, that's my life, nothing is sacred._

_I don't keep friends, I keep acquainted,_

_I'm not a prophet, but I'm here to profit._

_That's all, I'm gone! That's my life, nothing is sacred._

_I don't fall in love, I just fake it._

_I don't fall in love. I don't fall in love._

That's the song that I played. And when they asked me why I said this:

"It's true. I'm not as sad as I used to be, or at least I don't seem as sad. I don't just mope around. I don't… I'm not the same as I was and my old friends would never really notice that. And yes, I _can_ count all of the notches in my belt and all of the loves that didn't last, but I would much rather not bring up these things because they upset me. But I still have to, I know. And I don't fall in love – not after losing my parents and sister. I just pretend I love my friends and that I love the Bennett's. I can't really love anyone because they'll either leave me or die one day. That's true for anyone. So… that. That's my song."

That song wasn't marked as more or less emotional than any of the others. Some people played acoustic songs by emo bands, some of them played screaming songs that I don't exactly get, and some people just skipped their plays. It was interesting to see, but I was glad that I could hear everyone's music.

North played "Jingle Bell Rock." I would have laughed if he didn't scare the living shit out of me.

Later, after dinner but before bed time, I was pulled in to a one-on-one therapy session. There was the same therapist from the group therapy, only now it was just me and her. Rather than saying anything, though, she just looked at me. I was curled up, my feet on the worn leather couch, and I was scratching at the places where the material cracked, feeling my own heart beat in my chest. The loudest thing in the room was my breathing, which was labored because of my stuffy nose and weak immune system. I didn't have to look up to know that she was staring at me.

I would have sat there in silence all night if she didn't talk.

"Jack, it's been four minutes of stone cold silence. Do you really think that that's the most productive way to spend your time with me?" She asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I'm not making out with you if that's what you're implying," I replied coldly, tearing part of the cracked leather off and letting it fall to the ground. She scoffed.

"Sarcastic – that's good. That's what you use as a defense, isn't it? Well don't worry, Jack, that won't stop me from trying to get into that mind of your. Now tell me, Jack, why are you scared right now?" She asked, making me scowl.

"What makes you think I'm scared?" I retorted, even though I was metaphorically shaking in my boots.

"You're sitting there, hunched over, fiddling your fingers and nibbling on your lip – it's all in the body language. You don't have to worry about hiding it though, just relax. I can only read you because I went to college for it and a bunch of bullshit like that," she said, seeing right through me. I curled tighter, shaking my head.

"What do you want?"

"I want you to get real and tell me why you tried to kill yourself," she said simply. Like it was that easy.

"It's… complicated. I don't exactly know why… but like… I mean, my parents died…" I hesitated because realizing that it was totally a trick question and that there was no reason for me to answer it because there wasn't a specific reason. It was so many things and it was her job to ask me the right questions, not make me just do this shit on my own.

"Let's go to something a little more basic. Why did you lie to your other therapist?" That was a bit simpler of a question.

"Well, I didn't want to admit how much their death fucked me up. And like… well, I kind of blamed myself, too. I don't know completely why, though, I mean… I guess it doesn't make sense to me."

"If it doesn't make sense to you then why did you do it?"

"I was kind of used to lying by then, I guess. I don't know. I just wanted to be okay – for my little sister. She's like… she meant a lot to me. I don't know," I said, sighing. I shook my head and her face softened a little.

"So, after a terrible tragedy you had to take care of the little one, so you didn't tell anyone about how much it hurt you – tell me, Jackson, did you ever even cry over the death of your parents?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. I winced, shaking my head.

"Of course I cried… but I just went through the motions of mourning I guess. After that, that's all I ever did. I went through the motions. That was all I _could_ do. Then, when I finally had enough and tried to kill myself, I realized how much I had to live for.

"I don't really do things that I used to do anymore, though, and that kind of upsets me now that I really think about it. I was so worried about my sister and my parents that I didn't realize that I'm not really _Jackson Overland_ anymore… I became this… I became Frost," I chuckled, feeling tears fall down my cheeks, "I was cold and everything – which was what earned me that nickname. That and my wickedly white hair."

She asked a few more questions and poked and prodded, but before I knew it I was out of that little room and left to think about what we talked about. That world was numb, but at the same time it was a lot lighter and I was glad that things were working out the way that they were.

I felt, in an almost twisted way, content.


	8. Chapter 8

My birthday, January thirteenth, was spent in the hospital. I requested that no one sang to me and denied any recognition of it actually being my birthday, explaining that it was my date of birth and that I was not going to be celebrating it traditionally this year. When the Bennett's arrived, however, they told me happy birthday and said that I was going to see my present the moment that they got home. They also explained that they had to go through my room and proof it for my return, making it safe for a person on suicide watch. All of the knives and such were locked up, along with the pills and such. I felt a little offended because there was no way in hell that I was going to try and kill myself again, but I figured that it had to be and I let it be. That was the last day I spent in the hospital.

There were so many things that I could have explained to you, but there's only one last thing that I feel I must bring up – that being, the Quiet Room. I owe you all an explanation on that, but aside from that I do not want you to hear any more on the subject. The experience was hard and I don't enjoy talking about it, although it was enlightening to write about it.

The Quiet Room was a small room with a green hospital bed that had plastic sheets that tore easily. The walls were a sickly pale green that would have been comforting if the situation were to have been different. The lights were florescent and flickered, and when you were laying on your back you could see the deceased flies laying up there in their graves.

You weren't allowed to wear your clothes in the Quiet Room. They gave you a matt-like garment that would be impossible to hurt yourself with. They also clipped your nails if you were at risk of harming yourself with those. You would also always have a person with you, watching and making sure that you didn't do anything that could hurt you.

I never went into the quiet room, but I feared it. You would have to stay in there for days and you wouldn't be allowed to talk to others. You didn't have anything with you and it made you feel… pathetic. It was the biggest thing that made you feel insane – they didn't trust you to brush your teeth or dress yourself. It was completely disheartening. You would only have to go there if they were desperate for you not to hurt yourself.

I never saw any of them again. I didn't contact them or give out any of my contact information – I don't even know if they're still alive. But I think about them a lot. It's hard not to. From day one, though, I dreamed about getting out, and I was ecstatic that I was finally free.

**Third Person's Point Of View. **

It was a long road, but Jackson did get better. He saw a psychologist every week for over a year, and then moved down to seeing them once every two weeks for another year, and they still saw each other quite often until Jack was deemed 100% healthy and didn't require any mental assistance. He also saw a psychiatrist once every month or so, and he stayed on antidepressants for three years until he was off of them. He was okay and he lived the rest of his life in a healthy manner, graduating from high school and going off to college. He saw his sister when he was older, too, and they caught up and became close friends. Things for Jack really did work out, and the Bennett's really did love him. He got married when he was twenty four and had three kids. He died at eighty three, only one year after his wife died. They said that he died of sadness, though, for he barely lived without his wife.

Tooth ended up being okay as well. She turned eighteen while living in foster care and then she got a job and lived in a shitty apartment. After a while, she met a man and got married to him. She didn't invite her dad to the wedding. Her husband then started working for Boeing and they lived together until she died at fifty eight in a car crash. Her husband remarried to a younger girl and had a couple of kids (something that Tooth didn't want to do because of her terrible childhood), and then he died at ninety six, leaving his sixty year old wife with their two kids.

Sandy got out, but he tried to kill himself as soon as he could once again, using aspirin this time and destroying his liver. He had to be put into a medically induced coma for three months before he was allowed out of the hospital again. He was, however, a lost cause who didn't try to help himself. He jumped off of a bridge in his new town of Washington, this time being successful in killing himself.

North went from Burgess Mental Hospital to Burgess Prison and spent four years there until he went completely off the deep end and nearly killed a guard. When that happened, the city decided that it would be best if they put him on the death sentence, and he was mercifully killed three weeks later.

Aster got sober and moved towns – his parents sent him to a military school and he joined the army. He never married, but he became a very high enlisted rank before retiring and becoming an ROTC director at a local high school. He was feared and respected until he was put into a nursing home because he could no longer take care of himself. Despite all of the trauma he put his body through, he lived until he was one hundred and six before passing away, peacefully in his sleep.

Baby Tooth got back on track and made a book about her life. She thrived throughout the process of healing and she lived. She married a girl named Alyssa and she got much better. They didn't have kids, but they were a healthy couple and lived to an old age. Things went well.

The End.


End file.
